VOCALOID: Short Stories Based on Songs
by fuwafuwaMaki
Summary: VOCALOID: a singing synthesizer application software that enables users to synthesize singing by typing in lyrics and melody. This is a collection of short stories that are based on songs by Vocaloid characters.
1. ONE: Melt

[FRIDAY AFTER SCHOOL]

"But it's practically a DATE!" squealed Rin. "You guys are going to meet up outside of school and it's not for a school project!"

"Shut up," I said, blushing. "We're just friends!"

"Not for longgg…" she sang.

"I'm leaving now!" I said, walking away quickly.

"Hey," Kaito said, grabbing my elbow. "I'm glad I caught you. We still on for tomorrow?" he asked, in his deep manly voice.

His hand was warm.

"Oh, uh, yeah! Nine, right? In front of the grocery store?"

He had a big hand.

"Yup. See you then." He winked and walked away, leaving my heart in a puddle of goop.

He had a nice hand.

* * *

><p>I had lied to Rin. Were we friends? Were we a couple? I had no idea who or what Kaito and I were. When a girl confesses, doesn't she usually say, "I like you!" or "I love you!"?<p>

* * *

><p>[WEDNESDAY AFTER SCHOOL]<p>

I waited in the empty classroom, wishing I knew where the light switch was. At least it was late afternoon, so the sunlight came in through the window blinds. My heart was beating and beating, and I thought it would come out.

I took a seat in a desk. The sunlight felt warm against my head and I sighed, resting my chin on the desk. When would he be here?

"Miku? Miku?" A hand was shaking my elbow. "Wake up! What did you call me here for, anyway?"

I jolted up and stared. "Kaito! You're here!"

He looked kind of annoyed. "Well, yeah, you're the one who told me to come."

"Oh…right. Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Yeah, well, what did you want to tell me?"

I stood up. "Um…"

How did a girl go about confessing?

"_Um, I like you!"_

Like that'd work.

"Er…I don't hate you!"

My heart thumped, my palms were sweaty, my head was pounding, and…what?

One look at Kaito's face, and I realized it was true. _Did those words really just leave my mouth?_

"Oh…I…don't hate you…too…"

"No, no! I mean like, not hate, but…l—l...li…"

A knowing smirk descended on his manly face as it dawned on him what I was trying to say. "Li…?"

I scowled. "You know what I mean!"

"Well, I 'li' you too. So there." He stared at me defiantly, his cheeks a tiny bit pink.

_His cheeks are pink? Wait, is he BLUSHING?_

"Oh…that's…good."

Good? That's great! Amazing! Fantastically wonderful and fantabulous!

"Yeah…it's great" I said lamely.

Hatsune Miku had just confessed.

* * *

><p>And now this? A date, I thought excitedly as I prepared for bed. Was that what this was? I thought of Kaito, and my heart fluttered a little. It felt like little sparks were flickering around it.<p>

* * *

><p>[SATURDAY MORNING]<p>

I woke up with a start as the alarm clock rang, and immediately I remembered. Kaito. Confession. Date.

Oh god. It's not healthy to think of manly things right after waking up. My heart began sparking again, and immediately, I leaped out of bed. Anything to get my mind off The Date.

I passed the mirror on my way to my closet and stopped. I examined my newly cut bangs closely, making sure nothing looked weird.

* * *

><p>[FRIDAY NIGHT]<p>

"You cut your bangs?" Luka exclaimed. "Why? I mean, sure they were long, but not _that_ long!"

"I just wanted a change," I said nonchalantly. Of course there was no other reason. None at all.

"Wait…" she said suspiciously. Even without seeing her face, I knew by her voice that her nose and eyebrows were screwed together, mashed in a big puddle of wrinkliness as she thought hard. "Isn't your date with Kaito tomorrow?"

"Yes…" Oh no. What if she caught on?

"And…you cut your bangs…"

Oops. Time to go. "Sorry Luka-pyon, gotta go. I need my beauty sleep!" I said in my cheeriest voice and clicked off the phone before she could protest.

* * *

><p>So I'd cut my bangs just for Kaito. So what? Pleased, I turned away and began preparing. It had finally hit me. I WAS GOING ON A DATE WITH KAITO!<p>

_A pink skirt, a cute flower pin for my hair, my usual two pigtails, tied with fuzzy scrunchies, and a smile on top_, I thought to myself as I looked in the mirror one last time. I checked the weather report (sunny), double-checked my bag, and triple-checked my outfit. I threw open the door, and a beautiful sunny day greeted me.

The sky was gorgeous, with just a few puffy clouds on the horizon. The breeze was light and fresh, and as I skipped down the street, I sang to myself, "I'm looking pretty cute today!"

As I remembered what was waiting for me at the grocery store (or rather, who), my heat began sparking again. Ohmygod. Kaito. Me. On The Date.

Date.

Date.

Date.

The sparks turned to currents of electricity. I turned the corner and saw Kaito, in all of his gorgeousness, leaning against a wall. The currents turned to lightning bolts, as Kaito turned and saw me.

That dark blue hair, those matching eyes, the way that collared jacket, so carelessly left open, fit him so well! It was all mine for the day!

He lifted a hand and waved, and said, as I came closer, "So, where do you want to go?"

Where were we going anyway?

I opened my mouth to answer his question, but what I really wanted to say was what had first popped into my mind when I saw him.

Which was, "I love-!"

This couldn't be happening. No way.

"—everything, so you can choose!" You. I love you.

"Sure," he laughed, and I laughed, and we both laughed together.

It was kind of like heaven.

* * *

><p>It never rains in heaven.<p>

Heaven doesn't have lying weather reports either.

I sulked as we huddled together underneath the awning of a grocery store in a city far away from home. Soon, the white puffy clouds had grown bigger and bigger and darker and darker until a drop of rain had landed on my nose.

"Uh oh," Kaito had laughed at my scowl. "Time to take cover before it gets worse."

We'd started running for the nearest shelter, and by the time we had reached the striped awning, it was raining heavily, big fat drops plummeting down on our heads.

My heart seemed dead. I wondered what I'd been going on about before, with all those sparks and lightning bolts. They all seemed silly now.

We seemed to be the only people without an umbrella. I guessed these people knew enough to carry umbrellas wherever they went, even if the weather forecast screamed sunny.

Then again, I said to myself, _I_ was one of those people. I reached down as surreptitiously as possible into my cute brown bag, and almost pulled out the umbrella I brought "just in case".

Then I decided that it just wouldn't do, that it was too awkward of me to ask if we could share an umbrella, and I pushed it back inside, sighing.

Even though my heart began sparking again at the mere thought of sharing a standard size umbrella with Kaito.

Zzt. Zzt. Zzt.

The sparks began static shocking me until all of a sudden, they started buzzing and buzzing and buzzing until I truly began to believe that I would have a heart attack.

And all because Kaito leaned over me, his damp blue hair sticking to his forehead, the rain making him smell even better than usual, and started speaking.

At first, I didn't realize what he was saying, and then I finally told myself to tune in.

"…guess I have no choice but to let you in then." He said, laughing.

I didn't know what he was talking about until he reached into my bag, pulled out the umbrella, and opened it, tugging on my arm to get me inside.

And my heart was really truly alive again, beating and beating. Some part of my mind, not occupied with the feeling of Kaito's arm under my hand, wondered if my heart was trying to hack a hole through my chest, because that was certainly the way things were going at this rate.

I wondered if he noticed my hand was trembling. I certainly did. I stared at his hand holding the umbrella, wondering what would happen if I lifted my hand from his arm, and brought it up. It would be perfectly level to his hand, if he just moved it to the left a little. I wondered…

Before I knew it, we had walked down a whole block, then two, then three, and then…I couldn't count anymore. I couldn't do anything but talk and laugh at what he said, the stories he told, everything. He smiled at me a lot, and every time, my heart sang.

And then, we passed a clock, and it suddenly read that it was three ten. And just as I wished we had a little more time to spare, I was blinded by a bright glare.

"Look!" Kaito exclaimed, as the clouds parted and the sun shone. I looked where his finger pointed, and I saw a rainbow.

"Yeah," I said, sighing happily. "It's beautiful." And in that moment, I realized I was incredibly, giddily, happy.

I thought back to the days when we were toddlers, when we first met, and then to when we were in primary school, where we made memories, and to now, where we would make more. I remembered all those happy moments Kaito and I had shared, and I looked down, and didn't feel surprised at all when I saw my hand on his. It wasn't even trembling.

We reached the station, and I felt a bit sad that we had to separate so soon. Then I cheered up a teeny bit. Maybe he would hug me...or something.

He started to say goodbye with a smile on his face, when a bell trilled.

"Excuse me!" called a voice.

And suddenly, I found myself in Kaito's arms as the bicyclist whirled by us. But then, everything was a blur. The only thing I could really see was Kaito's face, his eyes cast downward and his cheeks pink. I was surprised, for a moment, as I realized that my wish had actually come true.

My heart couldn't take it anymore, and I melted in his arms.

* * *

><p>SONG: Melt (ryo)<p>

ORIGINAL ARTIST: Hatsune Miku


	2. TWO: By the Time He Gets Home

"Hurry, hurry," I mutter to myself as I glance at the clock. "He'll be home soon, Meiko, hurry!"

I survey my hard work with satisfaction. I twist and turn in the mirror, making sure everything is set, and I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

I walk to the living room floor, and deliberate.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Just as I hear the click, just as the knob turns, just as the door is pulled open, I think, _it's time_.

With a thump of my own, my body falls to the wooden floor in one big, limp, bloody mess.

* * *

><p>I open the door, and glance at my watch to make sure I'm on time.<p>

"Meiko, I'm home!"

I lift my gaze upward, and then I see it. On the floor of the living room, on the rosewood, lies my wife. There is a kitchen knife plunged deep inside her spine bone. Her already red jacket is splattered with dark red liquid. I do not say a word.

I cross around to see her face, her head turned sideways to reveal closed eyes, and a closed mouth with blood dripping down. There is more blood underneath her stomach, which the kitchen knife must have cut open. Her hand is dyed in red.

A rush of breath leaves my mouth. My wife's lifeless body twitches in response.

"Oh, Meiko," I sigh.

"How are we going to clean this up?"

* * *

><p>"Fufufu!" A small cry of laughter escapes my wife as she gives up.<p>

"And what is this, curry sauce?" I ask, stirring a finger in her "blood".

"Wrong! It's tomato sauce! Curry sauce isn't even red!" she cries out, her voice muffled from her facedown position.

"All right silly, now help me clean up."

"Okay okay," she says, sitting up. "Where did you put the cleaning things from yesterday?"

"In the closet down the hall," I reply as she licks her hand.

"Mmm…" she sighs as she wipes her fingers on her jacket. "Did you like today's performance?" she calls back as she ambles down the hallway.

"Not very creative, you know. Yesterday's was better."

"Arrows through the head are very old-fashioned. I was going for something more classic."

"A knife through the back?" I snort. "That's classy."

"Classic and classy are two very different things," My wife informs me loftily.

"I'm sure they are."

* * *

><p>By the time I get home from work, my wife always pretends to be dead. I'm not sure why, but I don't mind. She always helps me clean up afterward, and I shower her with compliments. Afterwards, she cooks dinner, and sometimes, with an arrow through her head as she stirs the soup, I can't resist taking a picture.<p>

I remember when we first met, before I became famous, I was always ruining the mood because I couldn't pay for dates. We had our first kiss in the pouring rain, and I vowed to make myself to work harder to make her happy. She was the only good thing in my life. But now, work brings me home later and later, and I can only manage to make it home before dinner.

Maybe she does it to bring back memories of when we first met, that carefree playfulness and jokes we played on each other. I'm not sure. But the fact that she's there for me every day after I get home from work, waiting for me, is more than enough. If that's the way she'll show her love, that's fine with me.

* * *

><p>Why do I pretend to be dead when he gets home? It's fun. I get bored at home. It's the only way to get rid of all that tomato sauce. It makes him laugh.<p>

Those are the reasons I throw out when my friends ask why, and they're the truth.

I remember after we got married, when Kaito became famous. I was (and still am) so happy for him. He seems so happy nowadays, and I'm glad. But, I wonder as we scrub the floor, is it wrong for me to ask for him to think only of me? I throw a sidelong glance at him, watching the way his hair falls over his eyes as he diligently works at a particularly stubborn splotch of tomato sauce. And then I realize that I'm happy now, with just the way things are. Of course he thinks of me. I'm his wife. And I'm not just any wife. I'm the wife who, by the time he gets home, always pretends to be dead.

* * *

><p>SONG: By The Time He Gets Home I Always Pretend To Be Dead (Hobohi-P, Azaa-P)<p>

ORIGINAL ARTIST: Hatsune Miku

VERS: Meiko & Kaito (Duet)


	3. THREE: Pierrot

Pi·er·rot – _noun_

* * *

><p>What in hell is a pierrot? I wondered as I twirled my pencil. Damn Madame Dubois, for giving us such a stupid assignment. The Spanish class had normal homework, conjugating irregular verbs. The Mandarin class had a reading packet. And the French class had a flippin' research essay.<p>

It wasn't like we were planning to live in France, after all. Most of us were only taking the class as a buffer cushion on our college applications anyway. Did she really think any of us were really interested in _culture?_

I glanced across the classroom and saw the back of a head. Soft, dark, wavy hair stared back at me. I told myself, don't stare, don't stare, don't stare, don't stare, but I couldn't help but look longingly.

Shit. I was staring. I turned my attention back to the slip of paper handed out.

_You can use the Internet for this project._

Like I was actually going to go to the library for a research project as idiotic as this.

I sighed. I'd been hoping to be able to finish this during class. Now I had to fit it in at home. I told Mrs. Richter that I needed the free period, but the uptight secretary hadn't believed me.

"I'm sure an organized young lady like you can fit homework into your busy schedule," she'd twittered, replying to emails (I could see the computer screen reflect onto her wire-rimmed glasses.) like I wasn't important.

"I'm sure I could, Mrs. Richter," I'd replied politely. "If I wasn't on the debate and JV soccer team."

She's frowned slightly. Perhaps her husband had emailed her saying he'd be late for dinner. "Well, I'm sure you could work around all that." For the first time in the three minutes we'd been talking, she looked up and met my eyes. "Well, the first bell is about to ring. We wouldn't want a detention interfering with your homework time, now would we?" She gave me a pallid smile, and returned her attention to her inbox.

Well. A chapter to read in Calculus, an analytical essay in English, two lab reports in Science, and a test tomorrow in History. And now this. A goddamn essay on pierrots. Pierrotes? Pierrot?

What in hell was a pierrot?

* * *

><p>I swiveled in my computer chair, turning around and around. But it was no use. Everytime the chair made another round, the white slip on my desk popped out.<p>

_le pierrot_

God.

_Well, I guess the first thing to do is the find out what it means._

Sighing, I pulled up my browser and typed in the link to a translation site.

_pierrot - sparrow_

A bird? I was researching a frickin' _bird_ for my French cultural essay?

All of a sudden, I knew that I wasn't going to be Wikipedia'ing this essay. No way did I want to read articles about sparrows. No online encyclopedia, or government website was going to make sparrows any more interesting than they already were. I was going to make this as entertaining as possible for me to research, screwing credibility along the way.

_Well, _a little voice inside my head said, _how are you going to do that? How are you going to find enough information about sparrows to write an essay on how they relate to the French culture without using credible sites? Do you really think somewhere like…_my voice spluttered for a good example to use, _YouTube would have anything good for you on sparrows?_

It was worth a try.

I pulled up my browser again and typed in the address.

_pierrot_

I typed it into the search bar, and scanned the drop-down list of suggestions the website provided me.

_pierrot_

_pierrot le fou_

_pierrot lunaire_

_pierrot lunaire schoenberg_

_pierrot the clown_

_pierrot the clown placebo_

_pierrot senka_

_pierrot jyj_

_pierrot le fou trailier_

_pierrot miku_

Nothing looked promising. I had heard or seen almost everything on the list, thanks to Madame Dubois. Well, except for a couple. I clicked on pierrot senka. The first video that popped up had a strange title.

_Pierrot - Senka [English Sub]_

It looked like the title of a song. However, the artist, Senka, had a male sign next to his name. (I assumed Senka was a "he") It also said "English Sub", which implied that the song was not in English. The thumbnail of the video was a picture of a boy, his face covered with…I couldn't quite figure out what was on his face. There was a frame around the whole picture, like it was a picture. The entire thumbnail was not a picture of a real boy. It was a shot of an animation.

Curious, I clicked on the link.

* * *

><p><em>You must bring in an example of how your assignment relates to the French culture.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Please see me.<em>

No score. No grade. Nothing. Just three words scrawled in red across the top of my research essay.

Shaking, I made my way to Madame Dubois' desk after class. When she looked up at me questioningly, I held up my essay.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked.

"Ah, oui, oui!" she said, smiling widely.

Wait, wait. Why was she smiling? Unless it was so bad, she…was smiling? Why was she smiling?

"Um…was it really bad?" I blurted out.

Her smile turned upside down.

"Excusez moi?" she asked.

Her face was now bemused. Ha. I knew she couldn't have been happy. She wouldn't be that mean.

"My essay," I waved it in front of her. "You didn't give it a grade. Was it really that bad?" I prided myself on keeping my voice level. I had secretly been proud of it when I'd handed it in. I couldn't understand why it didn't receive a grade.

Her face cleared. She told me why I hadn't received a grade.

* * *

><p>I emerged from the French classroom shaking. It was not a bad kind of shaking, though. That was made obvious by the ridiculously huge grin on my face.<p>

"It was brilliant," Madame Dubois had switched to English once my face had made it clear I hadn't understood a single word of her French babble. "It made me so happy to finally have a student put some effort into their essay, and not because they had to, but because they _wanted_ to. After all, I know that you wouldn't have written such a wonderful essay about _le pierrot_ if you hadn't found that wonderful video."

"Well," I said, startled. "Yeah. I mean, yes." What was she saying? She'd liked my essay?

"And what a wonderful video it was," she exclaimed, continuing on with her babble. "So touching, and such a wonderful song."

"Yea—es. Yes." I could only agree with her. I was a rock in shock.

"Although I did find it a bit odd that the song was sung in Japanese. I don't suppose you found a French version?"

I shook my head mutely.

"I expected as much," she said sadly. "Well, nevertheless, it was wonderful. Where did you come across it in your research?"

Oh, god. This was not happening. "I, er…found it. I wanted to be absolutely thorough in my research and decided to search it on YouTube just in case I found something helpful." Helpful, indeed.

"Such a dedicated student!" Madame Dubois had exclaimed happily. "Well, off you go. I don't want to make you late for your next class."

"Oh…sure." I still wasn't exactly sure what had happened. I walked to the door before I realized. "Madame Dubois?"

"Oui?"

"Why didn't you just put a grade on my paper?"

She looked confused again. "Why, because I wanted to talk to you about it!"

I nodded. "That makes sense."

"Au revoir!"

"Au revoir, Madame."

* * *

><p>You may write your essay in English.<p>

* * *

><p>The following is an excerpt from the essay, Le Pierrot.<p>

…However, no matter its origins, the most important aspect about the Pierrot is that it represents a fool in love. The fool will do anything for anyone, but for the girl he is in love with, he will do the impossible. And that is the feature all French pantomimes strive to capture. That feeling of loving someone so much, you would do anything…

* * *

><p>SONG: Pierrot (KEI)<p>

ORIGINAL ARTIST: Senka


End file.
